


in the absence of everything, i promise to keep you warm

by Milletrye



Category: Detentionaire (Cartoon)
Genre: Cy doesn't really show up but he's mentioned a fair bit so I might as well tag the ship lmao, Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, be prepared for way too many hcs, the Goob/Emo Joe stuff is entirely platonic though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23529427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milletrye/pseuds/Milletrye
Summary: One of the Dudes has a special connection to darkness.One of the Emos is about to find out.
Relationships: Cyrus Xavier/Goob (Detentionaire)
Kudos: 7





	in the absence of everything, i promise to keep you warm

_So draw a line within the snow_

_Between what you thought and what you know_

_And in that space I'll build a home_

* * *

Just a few hours ago, Goob would have scoffed at the idea of ever letting Emo Joe walk home with him after school.

Now they were doing exactly that, and he still hated every last second of it. Just a sideways glance at the other boy - seven inches smaller than him, face covered in ridiculous white makeup, grayish eyes that always looked blissfully apathetic with just a hint of dread for everything around him - made Goob want to punch him in the face. He had that smug aura about his posture as well, as if he couldn't care less about anything that wasn't himself and whatever angsty statement he was trying to make with all this.

That was the worst part, honestly. Goob couldn't stand assholes, least of all those that were smug about it. But what he could stand even less were people who claimed to be all broken and miserable, yet showed it by rubbing it into everyone's faces, making it the only personality trait they apparently had at all. Not that guyliner vampire was much of a personality to begin with.

People with actual issues wouldn't act that way. They'd keep them to themselves, desperately wanting for someone, anyone, to pick up on them regardless and actually give a shit... but at the same time doing their best not to bother those very same people with their bullshit problems nobody really cared about anyway.

That was what Goob was doing, at least.

And it made him sick - _sicker than usual, ha_ , he thought drily - to be reminded of people using this kind of stuff as some sort of fashion statement whenever he saw Emo Joe's stupid pretentious face.

At the same time, though, he couldn't really complain. After all, he'd been the one to ask Emo Joe about doing this school project together to begin with. English was one of the rare classes he didn't share with any of his bandmates, and apparently, Joe was the only member of his own clique there as well. And if Goob's options came down to him, a wizard-obsessed and altogether unbearable Mathlete, a girl who'd probably tell him every five seconds that something about his life wasn't environmentally friendly enough, and, well, Chaz - he was gonna go with the guyliner vampire.

 _At least he shouldn't suck too much at English with all those poems he's writing_ , Goob had tried to justify his decision to himself. _And at least he's friends with Cy._

Then again, Cy's friends also included some creepy as hell 11th Graders who spent their time after school in what even his bandmate called "cult meetings", so that wasn't really a good point to be making.

 _At least_ , he thought now, adding a better one to his list, _he's mercifully quiet and sparing me all his teen angst bullshit._ Joe really hadn't said a word on their entire walk so far, which was fine with Goob because those he'd said in class had been more than enough for him. Joe had this weird way of talking, his voice all deep and either completely emotionless or so full of sarcasm Goob wanted to punch him for that as well. But he couldn't, because he needed a decent grade.

_And because I don't want Cy to get mad at me._

_No_ , he thought, keeping himself from grimacing because the last thing he wanted right now was Emo Joe of all people asking him about his feelings. _Cy wouldn't be mad. Just upset I slipped into shitty old habits again._

And he hated it when Cy was upset, because that almost never happened. Cy had this way about himself where he managed to keep up a good mood no matter what was going on, unless you somehow found a way to really affect him.

And Goob, well… he was good at that. Somehow, for reasons he still couldn't understand, Cy actually liked him, in a way. Not like their fans did, or even Rud (who, to be fair, kind of liked everyone he met) - but Cy did it even though he knew what was going on with him. What issues he had that he'd made very sure not to tell anyone about (except for Cy, because he was Cy, the only person at school he actually trusted almost unconditionally). Cy was there for him when he needed it, _whenever_ he needed it, and Goob hated himself for that every time. He had no idea how he deserved someone like Cy - in fact, he was pretty sure he didn't at all -, so he dreaded the look his friend gave him whenever he learned of yet another one of his bullshit breakdowns. For some bizarre reason, Cy legitimately cared about him, so in those moments, he always looked as miserable as Goob felt.

There weren't that many things that could make Cy feel bad about something, but Goob's shitty habits were some of them.

And beating up Emo Joe would definitely count as one.

Goob had been so lost in thought that he'd almost missed a turn, but he managed to gather himself before Joe could've possibly noticed it. So they walked the rest of the way to the shitty apartment building in the shitty neighborhood just a few blocks from A Nigma High, and Goob cursed every second that passed as he tried to find the right key from the chain he'd kept in one of his hoodie pockets. Every one of those seconds meant another one for Emo Joe to study the list of family names by the door, something Goob could tell he was doing even with that bored expression of his.

"Don't you dare", he said through gritted teeth when he'd finally found the right key and managed a glance at his classmate.

Emo Joe raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at him. "Since your name of choice seems to be _Goob_ , I don't see why finding out your last name is _Goober_ should be a problem."

He'd used that apathetic voice again, the one that sounded so superior it'd have made Goob roll his eyes if this hadn't been a remark about him. But it was, so he just turned away to unlock the door. "My name isn't any of your business", he said as he started climbing the stairs, not looking back.

Joe, thankfully, stayed silent after that, but Goob felt his eyes on him anyway, bored and at the same time boring into him. But the silence didn't last all that long.

"Hm", Joe said after three floors or so, because another thing Goob hated about his building right now was how far up his family's apartment was. It allowed for way too many reactions he didn't need, even if it was just this single word that somehow sounded nonchalant and judging at once.

Goob groaned. "What?"

"I assumed your home would look more similar to Cyrus's", Joe replied. He didn't sound like he was making fun of him, or pitying him, or anything; just as if he was making a neutral observation.

It still made Goob feel pissed. His family wasn't the richest, so what? It wasn't their fault they were stuck in a cramped little apartment barely big enough for the three of them; hell, his parents were doing the best they could to be able to _keep_ that place. He wanted to snap at Joe now, screw whatever project they were supposed to be doing.

Instead, he froze in the middle of the stairway, turning his head to look sideways down at his classmate. "You've been to Cy's place?", he asked, unable to fight the jealousy creeping into it. Sure, Cy was his best friend… but his dad was kind of a major jerk when it came to Cy's interests, or generally everything that could ruin his grades somehow. So Cy couldn't tell him about the band, let alone about being friends with some depressed freak who hid in a hoodie all day and shared his barely hundred square foot room with a bunch of rats.

Domesticated ones, sure, but he doubted that made much of a difference here.

"Our dads are colleagues", Joe said, and for a moment, Goob thought he could hear a hint of actual sympathy in there. "And they have been friends since high school, so I suppose that helps as well. Cyrus and I often come along for those meetings."

"So you can bail into each other's rooms while the lawyers are being all fancy? Wise choice."

Now Joe seemed a little defensive. "I'll have you know that my dad isn't as bad as you make him sound."

"Congratulations", Goob cut him off, burying his hands in his hoodie pockets before Joe could see the fists he'd clenched. "But _some_ lawyer dads are a pain in the ass."

Joe looked like he wanted to say something - if Goob had to guess, it was likely along the lines of complaining about him using that kind of language, _especially_ when it was about people with as big of a reputation as the high and mighty Ruben Xavier. But Goob didn't really give a shit about language, and he gave even less of one about Cy's dad. Of all the people he knew - or knew about, at least, because he didn't have the death wish of ever meeting Ruben Xavier in person -, that guy was probably the one he hated the most. Cy shouldn't have to hide all the things and people he cared about the second he was home.

Still, there wasn't much Goob could do about it - being powerless, another thing he hated -, and there also wasn't much of a reason to deliberately ruin this afternoon before they'd even entered his apartment. So before Joe could actually decide on something to say, Goob turned around again to climb the rest of the stairs. "Whatever. Let's just get this over with."

He could hear Joe's footsteps behind him as they walked, but at least his classmate didn't say anything else. Finally, they reached the right floor, and Goob unlocked the door to his family's apartment.

He had a number of guesses about what Joe was about to say, and they all came down to stuff he didn't want to put up with, so he decided not to give his classmate a chance in the first place. "My parents won't be home for ages, so just put your stuff wherever. I'll be right back."

With that, Goob headed straight to his room, throwing his backpack onto his bed and shoving the meds on his nightstand into some drawer where Joe wouldn't see them even if he decided to be a nosy jerk. It wasn't like Goob hated the rest of his room - it was cozy enough and filled with stuff that really meant something to him, his rats and his guitar and all those rock CDs and posters -, but it was tiny and cramped and an absolute mess, and he could tell Joe was gonna be judging him for all three of those issues. So it was better to keep his classmate put in the rest of the apartment, which was at least presentable to higher class people like him.

Goob was about to go check on his rats when he noticed a movement from the corner of his eye. Instinctively, he spun around, ready to defend himself against whatever bully was gonna try and mess him up this time.

But of course, this wasn't one of the jerks from elementary. This was Joe, who dodged his instinctive swing with the experience of a longtime fencing team member. But, Goob noticed as well now, he actually looked kind of terrified for a moment before resuming his normal expression. He didn't say anything, he only stared at him with his haunting gray eyes.

Sometimes, Goob liked terrifying people. It was definitely better than the times he'd been on the shitty end of the deal, and it felt nice to show Joe in particular. But at the same time, he could guess what was going to happen soon enough.

"Sorry", he muttered, not really meaning it. But he did mean the next thing he said. "Don't tell Cy."

"If you insist", Joe replied, and Goob had no idea what he was thinking right now. He only knew what _he_ thought Joe was thinking, something along the lines of _freak_ and _weirdo_ and _creep_ and whatever else. Something he was probably going to tell Cy the next chance he had, which was the fencing team practice on the day after this stupid meeting. And then Cy would reach out to _him_ , all upset and disappointed that he couldn't keep his habits under control, and he'd probably wonder if it was even worth hanging around a problematic mess like him in the first place. If he wasn't already wondering that every day anyway.

Goob bit his lip. He wasn't gonna have a fucking breakdown in front of Emo Joe. Who, he noticed right now, actually had taken off the jacket he usually wore in school, revealing the short-sleeved shirt underneath. And the fact that he'd made the effort to put his ridiculous makeup all the way up his arms, even though they hadn't even had gym class today.

Gym was kind of Goob's favorite subject, partly because it gave him an excuse to slam balls into Joe's stupid pretentious face. _Something I wish I could do right now_ , he thought as he stared at his classmate's arms.

"Are you seriously doing that every day?", he couldn't help but ask. "And how much of your body are you putting through that shit?" Goob knew that some people - like Skeeter, who, then again, believed the most bullshit stuff if you just sounded serious enough - thought that Joe's skin actually was that pale, but he'd spotted him reapplying some of the makeup in the boys' bathroom one time. The guy was almost as bad as Chaz, seriously.

"What does it matter to you?", Joe asked in return, and Goob realized once again how creepy he was with that deep voice of his and those oh so cold eyes. He kind of even put his own eyes to shame - which was saying a lot, because having heterochromia made you a freak all by itself, no actual glaring required. Not that Goob didn't glare a lot at people… but at least he couldn't help the way his eyes looked, because he didn't react well to contacts. Emo Joe, however, voluntarily put up with his makeup day after day, apparently, so that was enough of a reason to call him out on it.

"It's making you look like a major freak, is all."

Joe didn't even blink. "As does you never taking off your hood."

Goob couldn't help but flinch a little, as much as he hated himself for it. _Never show anyone how weak you are._ Joe wasn't wrong, though - he really did keep his hood up at all times, as well as his hoodie in general. It was a pain in the heat of summer, obviously; he knew it wasn't just his own twisted voices that thought him to be crazy to attend gym class outside with his hoodie on. He stayed out of A Nigma's pool, or any pool, as well, because he'd be damned if he ever showed the whole grade his body. He had plenty of reasons not to. "That's different", he growled eventually.

"Is it?" Joe was using that cursed tone again, the one that sounded as if he wasn't impressed by his words at all. But what was he thinking he'd do? Pour his heart out to him? _Yeah, right._

"You're just doing it for your image", Goob continued. "As some sort of fashion statement to immediately show everyone just how miserable you are, not that there's actually anything of the sort going on. You could take off your makeup and it wouldn't make a difference."

"It would", Joe said drily. "Certainly more than you changing into a simple shirt for once."

 _You have no idea._ But then, Goob realized something. _If I take off the hoodie while he's not in the room, I can still hide the shitty stuff before he sees it. He'll think I'm faking, sure, but since I know he's doing that too, we'll both get nothing out of this. Just a confirmation for me that he's a pretentious jerk._ "You know what? Fine. I'll take off my hoodie. If you take off your makeup."

For a moment, he thought he saw something like shock in Joe's face. Not just surprise, but something that really looked like genuine concern.

For a moment, he was getting concerned, too.

But then, to his surprise, Joe nodded. "Very well. Where can I find the bathroom?"

"Next door on the right", Goob told him, watching him as he headed exactly there.

And wondering what the hell he'd just gotten himself into.

 _Well, better get done with it_ , he thought, pushing his hoodie over his head and throwing it onto a nearby pile of clothes. He took his beanie off as well, ruffling the wild brown hair underneath to get it back into its natural messy state. For a moment, he looked down at his now bare upper body, not revealing all that much critical stuff beyond a few old scars here and there. Those weren't a big deal.

The ones on his wrist were, though.

Goob frowned as his eyes settled on them, three parallel lines of which the last was from only a little more than a year ago. He still remembered them vividly, the reasons he'd had for adding them all. And he still had those reasons, those days where he wanted nothing more than to hurt himself like that again, because at least the pain distracted him from how much he hated himself. Not to mention that it was what he deserved as well, because he was a freak and an asshole and nobody gave a shit about him anyway.

Except that wasn't true. Cy cared, even before he'd become the first - and only - person to ever find out Goob had those scars. He'd be heartbroken if he noticed he'd added another one, and upsetting Cy was the last thing Goob wanted.

Especially since he'd be dead without him by now.

"I still don't know why you're putting up with me, Cy", he muttered, changing into the old _Ramones_ shirt he'd owned since middle school, worn out and still loose enough to fit him just fine.

"Cyrus has always cared deeply about his friends", Joe stated behind him.

Goob spun around, not in fighting stance this time, but rather like a deer in the headlights, shock clearly written all over his face. "How long have you been standing there?", he asked, his voice all shrill and panicked. _Fucking great._ But he was too startled to even think about hiding his wrist somehow.

Joe, at least, hadn't changed at all yet, he looked just as ridiculous as always. "I was going to ask you if you had any cotton pads", he said, and then his voice shifted into a tone unusually gentle for a guy like him. "I'm sorry."

"For sneaking up on me like that? Yeah, you'd better be."

"Yes, that. And for your brain feeding you thoughts nobody deserves to be having."

Joe was looking right at him, but of course, Goob knew what he was talking about. However useless it was, he put his other hand around the wrist in question, clutching it so tightly that he could've broken it if he'd tried. _He saw them. Of course he did. What did you think was gonna happen when you made that dumb suggestion? You should've known it'd turn out that way, idiot. What're you gonna do about it now? Nothing, of course. It's too late for that._

The voices in his head were virtually screaming this stuff at him now, and he winced at the headache that gave him. At the same time, though, he gritted his teeth, trying to calm his heavy breathing so he wouldn't end up crying in front of Emo Joe. But he could tell it was already too late for that. "Get out", he growled, and when Joe didn't move, he raised his voice into a downright yell. "I said get out!"

Joe took a step back, but that was it. In his eyes, Goob could read that yes, Joe really did desperately want to flee from this guy he'd stand no chance against in a fight. But somehow, for some reason, he didn't. "Wait", he said, his voice just a little less deep than usual. And far less apathetic. For probably the first time ever, Joe sounded like… like he _cared_.

That was what stopped Goob from lashing out at him further, not the word he'd said. So he stood there now, unmoving, feeling his heart slamming against his ribcage. Hesitating. Waiting.

Joe's hand went to his own wrist, the one where he was wearing a sort of wide leather bracelet just like the ones Goob had fleetingly noticed on the other Emos sometime before. The edgy version of a friendship bracelet, he supposed. Joe slid it off now, raising some fingers to his mouth to get them wet enough to wipe off the makeup in that area. When he did, Goob saw his skin underneath, but there was still enough makeup there that he couldn't really pinpoint its color. What he did notice, however, were a handful of scars on that very spot.

Scars just like his own.

Goob stared at them as his thoughts kept racing. _So Joe has a bunch of those too. Big deal. Would've been more surprising if he hadn't, as much of an Emo thing as they are._

_But then why would he cover them up? Twice, even? Wouldn't he rather go running around with them on display to really sell the Emo deal, for his oh so miserable aesthetic?_

_Unless that's not why they're there._

Goob's eyes went up to Joe's face - or up from his wrist at least, given how small Joe was compared to him -, only to see that his eyes had lost their bored haze completely, instead looking as sympathetic as they possibly could with that color and that guyliner around them. And, down below, Joe was cracking just the smallest of smiles, which was still more than Goob had ever seen on him. "I'm not faking", he said in a voice impossible to accuse of anything else.

Somehow, hearing and seeing him like that finally made Goob loosen his grasp around his own wrist. Not enough to let go just yet, but still, he found himself relaxing ever so slightly. "Neither am I", he managed, hating how shaky he still sounded.

Goob didn't know what else to say, so he stayed quiet, and Joe did the same. There was a strange silence between them now, one that wasn't exactly awkward, but also not entirely comfortable. It was something between the two, only disrupted by the rustling and squeaking of his rats.

A noise that apparently made Joe pretty uncomfortable, judging by his not really subtle glances in that direction and the frown that was back on his face.

Glad to have a better topic to talk about, Goob raised an eyebrow at him, clearing his throat to sound more stable again. "Scared of rats?", he asked.

"A little, yes", Joe admitted to his surprise. He kind of wanted to tease him about it, but he was still too busy trying to sort out what he'd just learned about his classmate.

"Wait in the living room", he offered. "I'm... just gonna check on them real quick."

Joe hesitated. "I should still follow through with my part of our agreement."

"You don't have to do this, dude", Goob told him, starting to feel kinda bad about the whole situation. "We've both seen enough."

"It would be unfair to you", Joe insisted. "So, _do_ you have any cotton pads?"

Goob sighed, realizing this wasn't gonna go anywhere. Eventually, he gave up, telling him where he supposed his mom was keeping that kinda stuff. The second Joe was gone, Goob headed over to the cage of his two little roommates, glad to have a few moments to himself after all of this.

And there they were: two rats, one of them black-and-white and the other a murky brown. He'd called them Slash and Cobain, after two of his rock idols, much like he'd been naming all the rats he'd had before after people like that. Rats didn't live all that long, so he'd had quite a few over the years… and, by now, a little bit of a rock and roll hall of fame.

Sometimes he wondered if seeing this many of his pets die was one of the reasons he'd ended up with such a grim personality.

Slash and Cobain were alive and well, at least, and Goob made sure they had everything they needed before watching them go on about their day. He always felt a bit more at peace doing that, because for some reason, his mind never tried to convince him they hated him, as opposed to what it was doing around pretty much every human he knew. Even his messed up brain stood no chance against the unconditional love of a pet, he supposed.

Goob kept sitting there for a while, looking at their cage from the foot of his bed. Then he heard Joe clear his throat, thankfully not right behind him for once. His classmate must've been standing back by the door, so Goob turned his head in his direction, still so lost in thought that he forgot why Joe had been in the bathroom to begin with.

And now that he saw it, he couldn't believe his eyes.

Sure, Goob had known that straight up white wasn't Joe's natural skin color; that it was going to be darker underneath. He just hadn't expected it to be _this_ dark.

It wasn't black by any means, nowhere close to Nadene or anything. But it was darker than his own skin, darker than Cy's, and they were already the ones with the darkest skin among the DoD. Cy because of his Cypriot roots from some tiny country in Southern Europe, and Goob from the Mexican side of his family, not that he ever actually visited his relatives down there. That was halfway across the continent, and nothing worth spending gas or money on.

No, Joe's natural skin color was closer to Chaz's, although Goob didn't think his background was something equally Arabic. More like on the European side of the Mediterranean Sea, if he had to guess. Joe had removed the stuff around his eyes as well… eyes that were brown now, not gray. But just brown didn't quite cut it; they were all saturated and warm and with a golden tinge around the pupils. _Pretty eyes_ , Goob thought in amazement. _Really pretty eyes._

And a really pretty face too, even - or especially - without all that makeup and eyeliner on. Goob wasn't into guys (or at least, not into anyone that wasn't Cy, but even those feelings were something he wasn't always ready to admit about himself); however, this wasn't really a personal opinion. He was pretty sure Joe counted as handsome even from an entirely objective point of view.

"What the hell", was all he could think of saying.

"Croatian", Joe noted, confirming his suspicions from earlier. "My hair is closer to brown than black as well, but I couldn't exactly un-dye it right now."

Goob couldn't stop staring at this complete stranger that he had to remind himself was his classmate. "Why are you hiding all of that, dude? I bet a ton of the girls would be super into this look." _And the guys too, I guess._

Joe averted his gaze, shifting uncomfortably. Goob was reminded of his rats that were still in the room with them, so he awkwardly led his classmate over to the living room. When they'd sat down - Joe on the couch, Goob on one of the armchairs -, Joe still looked a little nervous, but started talking again. "I don't exactly like the attention", he said. "I'd rather not be the guy everyone's talking about, for better or worse."

"You're still attracting attention with your Emo shtick", Goob pointed out, and Joe nodded slowly.

"Naturally. But I usually have my clique around me to share the attention, and I would assume people are used to our aesthetic by now. Besides, who would I hang out with if I followed through with my normal appearance?"

"Chaz", Goob offered with a grin, making Joe raise both of his eyebrows.

"Haha." He sounded as sarcastic as he often did, but there was another tiny smile sneaking onto his face. On a face like this, no makeup and all, it really did look unfairly attractive. Goob actually felt a little awkward in comparison. "But seriously", Joe continued. "I'm happy with the people I have around me. We certainly get along much better than Irwin and his Mathletes do."

"And you have friendship bracelets", Goob noted, looking at the wristband Joe had put on again by now.

Joe rolled his eyes at that comment. "Crow convinced us to wear those. He kind of only joined our group because he was really intrigued by the rest of us. And he still hasn't really figured out how to be properly Emo."

"Edgy", Goob snorted at that wording. But he knew who Joe was referring to: his kilt-wearing cliquemate who even he could tell had trouble keeping up the bored expression. Goob saw him slip into smiles pretty much on the daily, smiles that looked so adorable it was hard to believe the kid was part of that particular group of students. His name fit him, at least - his messy black hair looked a lot like a crow in mid-flight. Which made Goob wonder something he figured he might as well ask. "Is that his actual name, or did he get that nickname because of his hair?"

Joe hesitated, as if considering whether he had the right to reveal that to him. "Both", he said eventually. "His middle name is Crowley, so that was kind of an obvious name to use around us."

Goob nodded, knowing that _Joe_ wasn't exactly his classmate's name either. It was _Giuseppe_ , actually, but nobody apart from Joe himself really used that name. _Joe_ was shorter, and _Emo Joe_ especially was just kind of something everyone had started rolling with at some point.

"What about you?", Joe asked now. "Your first name, I mean."

Goob winced. "None of your business, I told you."

"Then just tell me if it's really so bad you would rather be called _Goob_."

"No", he replied with a sigh. "I mean, no, it… it's not, I guess. It just reminds me of stuff I'd rather not think about. You know?"

"I know", Joe said, and Goob didn't doubt that was true. Not after what he'd seen. His classmate hesitated again, still looking at his face, but not actually making eye contact. "I assume that's also why you never take off your hood?"

 _Because I can't see anything worth hiding_ , Goob heard the silent implication. And it was true, the only thing that really was noteworthy about his head were his differently colored eyes, which was something everyone more or less knew about already. So Joe had to have realized that there must be some other issue he couldn't risk showing around, but that wasn't really the case. All Goob had up there was a mess of brown hair, nothing unusual about it.

"Pretty much", Goob admitted, surprising himself with what he said next. "I used to wear it long back in the day, but the other kids made fun of me a lot. Didn't help that my name's Magnus, so they pretty much just called me Maggie all the time. I was a massive wimp back then, so it was even easier to get to me than it is nowadays. And I guess the shitty connotations just kinda stuck in my brain ever since."

Only when he was done talking did he realize what he'd just said, but he didn't feel as bad about it as he'd expected. It felt kind of nice, honestly; telling someone about this stuff who could somewhat relate to the whole self-loathing situation. _The one thing Cy can't do_ , he thought.

Joe didn't call him out on mentioning his name after all, and he didn't seem to judge him for the rest of it either. Instead, Goob saw surprise in his oh so brown eyes, along with something else he couldn't place. Something like… like maybe he'd hit a nerve with his words just now. "I never grew out of that", Joe said, his voice still matter-of-factly, but also a little regretful.

Goob blinked at him. "What do you mean?"

"The - how did you put it - ‘massive wimp' thing you said." Joe's eyes went past him, looking at nothing in particular. "That's another reason I'm quite fond of the whole Emo association. When you're scared of something, or close to having a… you know, a breakdown. You do your best not to show it outwardly, right?"

"Duh", Goob said, and Joe nodded.

"The truth is… I'm pretty easily terrified. Not just of your rats, but… dogs. Cats. Thunderstorms. Intimidating people. Most other people. And a lot of other things. It's almost a 24/7 thing for me, honestly. So I became good at reducing my panic to something internal… and when Winter - Summer, back then - decided to go Emo, I joined her. Partly because I wanted to support her as a friend and partly because…"

"Because it was a good way to justify what you're trying to hide", Goob finished, feeling just like he'd assumed about Joe before. Like having a particular nerve hit by his classmate's words. "Yeah, my hoodie works that way too. Guess I can be glad we aren't, like, a Country band."

"Then you'd just be wearing a cowboy hat instead", Joe pointed out, and something about the way he'd said that sentence with his ever-serious voice stopped Goob from getting mad at him.

In fact, he couldn't help but snort at the suggestion. "Whoever tries putting one on me is a dead man."

Joe looked at him in a way that he could easily tell meant something along the lines of "no doubt about that". But what he said was something different. "I'm glad you aren't."

It took Goob a moment to realize what Joe meant by that, but when he did, he swallowed hard to get rid of the lump in his throat. "Thanks", he replied, not really sure what else to say. "I'm glad you aren't either. Sorry I said you were faking."

"It's fine. I can't really blame you for thinking it." Joe's eyes trailed down to Goob's still exposed wrist. "Sorry for doubting you as well. I suppose you always seem so happy around your bandmates that I found it hard to believe you had anything going on."

Goob frowned, turning his head to stare at something else than Joe. "Skeeter's a pain in the ass half the time. Cy's the only reason I'm still putting up with him." It wasn't that he hated Skeeter, exactly - more like his bandmate had such a perfect life compared to him that Skeeter had genuine trouble even trying to relate to where Goob was coming from whenever he had another one of his particularly negative phases. So Goob's feelings for him mostly came down to frustration and an infuriating amount of jealousy, which wasn't really the best combination to have. If it weren't for Cy - and Rud, he supposed -, he'd have cut ties with Skeeter ages ago.

"Cyrus is your only reason for a lot of things, isn't he?"

Joe had said it without sounding teasing at all, but Goob still shifted uncomfortably. As strangely bonding as this conversation had been, he really wasn't ready to let anyone that wasn't himself in on that whole situation. "Let's not go there, okay?"

"Of course", Joe said, hesitating. "Although, for what it's worth, I can see what he sees in you. And what you see in him."

This really was getting way too personal for Goob's liking, so he did what he usually did in moments like this (when he wasn't having a breakdown, anyway): cover it up as if nothing was wrong.

He met Joe's eyes again, forcing a grin onto his face. But as he said them, he felt that his words, at least, were genuine. "You're surprisingly tolerable yourself."

In return, Joe did what Goob never thought he was ever going to witness: He smiled. Not just in the way that made one corner of his mouth go up ever so slightly - but giving him an actual smile, nowhere near as forced as his grin. It was all warm and genuine, and once again Goob had a hard time accepting that this ridiculously handsome stranger was in fact his Emo classmate.

But then again, he doubted he'd ever look at Joe the same way again. Now that he knew what Joe was hiding under all that makeup, now that they'd had this unexpected heart-to-heart… there was some sort of connection between them, he knew. Was either of them gonna tell Cy about it? Goob wasn't planning to, and somehow, he didn't think Joe was going to either. This was gonna stay a secret between the two of them. He had no idea what they were gonna do about it now, since they'd both go back to their own respective cliques after today. But, he thought, there was a strange kind of comfort in knowing there was someone right at his school who actually understood the stuff he was going through, more than even Cy ever could. He had an ally now, and that somehow managed to turn his grin into a smile that mirrored Joe's. Maybe his classmate wasn't all that bad after all.

He took a deep breath, feeling more relaxed than he'd had all afternoon. A quick glance to a nearby clock told him it was closer to evening by now. "So, uh", he began, noticing how Joe had followed his gaze and was now returning his kind of awkward expression. "Wanna start working on that thing for class?"

**Author's Note:**

> Goob technically doesn't have heterochromia in the show, but the headcanon stuck ever since the low quality episodes up on YouTube made it look that way :') What a lad.
> 
> Cited song: in the absence of everything, i promise to keep you warm by Flatsound ~


End file.
